


Under (the) Cover

by Soapbubblesoul



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Undercover, Undercover Cops, all the best clichés, there's only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 07:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20467097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soapbubblesoul/pseuds/Soapbubblesoul
Summary: Of course there's only one bed. And honestly, Yifan can deal with only one bed. He has had to, countless times before. But only having one blanket... well there goes the last straw of his sanity.





	Under (the) Cover

**Author's Note:**

> I speed-wrote this in one night a while ago and posted it on twitter but since it turned out to be longer than expected, I figured I could also crosspost it here

It hardly comes as a surprise that there‘s only one bed when they enter the hotel room. After all, it would have aroused suspicion if they had requested two beds. Even the fact that the bed is queen-sized rather than king-sized is something that doesn‘t hit Yifan completely out of the blue, because he knows that double beds in this country tend to be on the smaller side at budget places.

The conference they‘re attending does not pay for their accommodation, and their division can hardly afford luxury for them unless it‘s necessary to keep up their cover. And newly-wed husbands who are only just starting to get a grip in the world of work surely would rather save up on money and squeeze together on a smaller bed.

So far, so good. However, as Yifan moves around the bed to put his suitcase down on one side of the room, he notices a very crucial detail: There is only one blanket.

In the three months since they went undercover, him and Yixing have shared beds before. Of course they have, or they‘d have long since blown their cover. But they‘d always had their own respective blankets, meaning it was easy enough to avoid touching each other. With only one blanket—

„Something wrong?“

Yifan hadn‘t realised he‘d frozen right in the middle of putting down his suitcase to stare at the bed with mild horror. He clears his throat, and sets aside his suitcase, making sure to avoid Yixing‘s gaze.

„There‘s only one blanket.“

A small exclaim of realisation comes from Yixing, as if he only just now noticed.

„Well, this place truly is for people with a tight budget,“ Yixing laughs, „Not a problem though. Right?“

„_Yes problem. Definitely problem._“ Yifan wants to say, but he swallows down the word, and replaces them with a vague grunting sound that could be interpreted as assent.

„I could always go down to the reception and ask for another blanket?“

Yixing has always been good at reading Yifan, and spending the entire last three months together has just honed his perceptiveness even further.

„No, no need. We would just draw attention.“

„It‘s not entirely unlikely for a couple to require two blankets? Perhaps you‘re a blanket-hog and I don‘t want to spend my night fighting my husband to not freeze to death,“ Yixing argues, a shit-eating grin on his lips as he speaks the last sentence, clearly already imagining teasing Yifan about his imaginary blanket-monopolisation.

A blush creeps up Yifan‘s cheeks that he cannot even fully explain. Everything Yixing does these days seems to leave him flustered, but him publicly speaking about _his husband_ is a sure way to get Yifan‘s heart doing somersaults.

They have been partners at work for nearly a decade, which made them the perfect candidates for this undercover mission. After all they‘ve been dubbed „old married couple“ at the police station already either way, so making them act as newly-weds wasn‘t a far stretch.

It‘s an important case, one that‘s been running for years already, and being chosen to play such a huge role in gathering the last evidence they need to close it is a huge honour. One Yifan could never possibly have turned down, despite being aware of the perils. Perils that have nothing to do with the criminals they‘re trying to get close to, and everything with the feelings Yifan has been trying his hardest to keep contained for the better part of five years already.

It is a double-edged sword. On one hand, Yifan gets to be with Yixing, to indulge in what it would be like to have him as his husband. They hold hands when they walk outside, Yixing steals his food and feeds him some of his own in return, and if Yifan pouts and refuses, he‘ll get a kiss pressed to his cheek and a dimpled smile as peace offering. They hold dinner parties for co-workers and friends where Yixing spends the entire evening by Yifan‘s side, his arm wrapped around Yifan‘s waist while Yifan‘s arm rests around Yixing‘s shoulders. It is a bittersweet dream.

Because on the other side, it‘s all a game of make-believe, an illusion. Nothing of it is real, no matter how real they manage to make it for everyone watching at any given moment. This assignment will, eventually, come to an end. They are not actually married. They‘re not actually in love.

Or at least, Yixing isn‘t.

Which is why he crawls into the bed that night without a single sign of hesitation. He doesn‘t have any second-thoughts about sleeping in such close physical proximity, because he doesn‘t suffer from the emotional turmoil Yifan goes through. Yixing even goes as far as to flip open the blanket on Yifan‘s side of the bed and patting the mattress to beckon him to join him, seeming downright enthusiastic. Yifan does as told, with a smile he hopes doesn‘t look as much as a grimace as it feels.

The days are on the brink of winter, and they‘re keeping the window slightly opened because Yifan tends to sleep better in the cold. It‘s of little help, Yifan has to discover, as the mere knowledge that Yixing is lying so close to him, not even a layer of blankets separating them, makes Yifan feel as if he‘s burning up. He‘s just glad he turned off the lights before climbing in bed next to Yixing because he‘s sure he‘s as red-faced as if he just ran a marathon.

Yixing wishes him a good night, and Yifan‘s response comes out as little more than a croak since he feels as if he‘s swallowed his tongue, and his throat is bone-dry.

Next to him, Yixing shifts onto his side to look at him in the dark. It doesn‘t exactly help Yifan‘s pulse calm down.

„Are you okay? You sound a bit hoarse. Want me to get you some water?“

„I‘m fine,“ Yifan lies, „Just, y‘know, lots of talking. You know? First day of the conference, lots of introductions, lots of networking. Must have strained my voice a bit.“

Yifan can _feel_ Yixing‘s gaze on him, but he refuses to turn onto his side to face him. Instead, he stiffly remains on his back, staring at the ceiling as if it can save him.

„Well, a good night of sleep should be enough to get you back to normal then,“ Yixing says, and after repeating his goodnight wishes, he turns onto his other side and Yifan finally manages to release the breath he‘d been holding.

He‘s well aware that Yixing is wrong on both counts. A night of „good sleep“ will not make Yifan „normal“. He‘s doomed around Yixing—which is also why he knows there will hardly be any sleep for him that night.

...

Yifan has shared beds with Yixing before, so he knows that Yixing is not exactly a „peaceful“ sleeper. Even in the huge 2 metre bed in their home, Yixing manages to invade Yifan‘s side pretty much every night. But with his own blanket wrapped tightly around his body like a protective cocoon, Yifan can usually ward off any overly awkward situation. Not tonight, however.

Yifan doesn‘t know when he actually fell asleep, but he must have drifted off at one point because when he wakes up again, the blue-ish light of sunrise is creeping through the curtains. And Yixing is draped over his chest, breathing softly against his clavicles. Yifan‘s arms, to his utter mortification, are wound tightly around Yixing‘s waist as if to make sure he stays in place.

Yifan‘s brain jumps from drowsy peacefulness to disorientation straight to panicked overdrive as he frantically tries to figure out how to disentangle their bodies without waking up Yixing and making him realise the position they are in. Then, the stampede of thoughts skids to an abrupt halt, every single voice inside his head falling silent as a quiet murmur wafts to his ears.

Is Yixing... saying his name?

**Author's Note:**

> Writing fake dating was actually so much more fun than I expected, I'd love to do a full fic for it one day but somehow I can't seem to be able to come up with a full-fledged plot :~:
> 
> also, I made a new twitter mainly for writing updates! come find me at @soapbubblesoul if you don't want to see my daily writing unrelated rambling (and if you do, you can find me on my main, @soyifab)


End file.
